Sunset in Rome in February. Warm enough to sit in a t-shirt on the stone steps facing L’Altare Della Patria. I strip off my jacket and I let it crumple to the stone steps below me. 

A couple walks by in front. Then two. Then three. In Rome, they hold hands by clinging onto each other’s fingertips. Their hands are splayed out and quietly holding on. There is very little desperation, little grasping or clawing. It is the gentle caress of long-term lovers, who know that urgency is a waste of time. 

They are on their honeymoon or their anniversary, or perhaps some other occasion, and as they kiss under the warmth of the sun across from L’Altare Della Patria, it is clear to me that they are in love. 

Their clinging hands make heart-shaped shadows on the cobblestone. AND, although it’s not valentines day, it might as well be. It’s always valentines day in Rome. The couples never leave. They are smiling now. Always smiling and taking photos of each other. And always so beautifully, painfully, in love. 

This is part of a short zine of mine titled: Love, Travel and Italian Wine.

This short publication is now available for pre-order on Amazon.